The bridge over the Mississippi is shut, the traffic diverted to Wabasha while authorities investigate the undergirding which is corroded and in danger of collapse. Work has slowed on both sides of the river while an enterprising man with a … Continued
This is not a personal poem. I don’t write about my life. I don’t have a life. I don’t have sex. I have not experienced death. Don’t take this personally but I don’t have any feelings either. The feelings I … Continued
news from an island: twelve thousand people are unaccounted for, probably underwater. they are bodies and bones and sunk, probably, somewhere. there are superstitions about rivers, loaves of bread and a dollop of silver. there are rumors that can raise … Continued
In the dark, I count fingers, Watch lightning spider Over the mountain’s toothy peaks. All the while, the cupola grows Cloudy with accidents— Dark blossoms sticky and wet, Clinging shadowy with reincarnation. Yesterday eight and now, eleven, Memories distilled, frayed. … Continued
I thought you were an anchor in the drift of the world; but no: there isn’t an anchor anywhere. —William Bronk You aren’t forgotten. How could so much of us ever be? When you left this life, an anchor … Continued
I’m thinking, what would happen if I started masturbating on this subway car? It’s late. An African man next to me is reading the president’s book. Drinks tonight with an older poet who told me that Winnie the Pooh is … Continued
The amorous part that is in us, for want of a legitimate object, rather than lie idle, does after that manner forge and create one false and frivolous. —Montaigne, from his essay with more or less the same title as this poem … Continued
I heard once that after doing the math on Bruges Hitler determined that it was too far off for him to bomb, and so instead, he sent them a flock of swans— a flock of swans as a scourge, … Continued
Childhood is a human water, a water which comes out of the shadows. —Gaston Bachelard Boy beside a rain-barrel curling his hand over its edge— his fingers yellow in the roof-dark water he can’t see. … Continued
I sat at a table outside an Irish pub, with a child I adored and a man I didn’t, in a resort town in summer. Another man sat on a folding chair attempting to entertain the diners with accordion … Continued
Of course it’s breath in the night, irrevocable fog, tongue that slips in silver stars. A dream, a woman says, but what’s most disconcerting is the last bit hanging from the knife. A woman says that which has … Continued
The orchestra has committed suicide. I never wanted love. I never wanted love. I want fuchsia, frying pans, the sea, my name seeks atonement, I’m sinking to the floor, a red skillet, duck fat, … Continued
Gleason developed the WUG Test in 1958: This is a WUG. Now there is another one. There are two of them. There are two _______. This man zibs. A man who zibs is a _______. The children made the … Continued
Translated from Spanish by Pablo Medina 1. GORING AND DEATH At five in the afternoon. It was five sharp in the afternoon. A boy brought the white sheet at five in the afternoon. A basket of lime … Continued
The candidate has a spoilage in his head, an icky bit, a creep that chews for him alone when stuffing up the local grub. At every stop, he shovels in the pies and dogs, the beer, … Continued
At the end he was tilted that he might remain in sleep. If he woke he would know just how bad things were, would cough and dislodge the intubation tube. A certainty. Fluids in, fluids out. Tilted his head below … Continued
Heaven must be dying on time at the end of a long life, family at one’s hands, goodbyes hovering like hummingbirds, which, if one is absolutely still, sometimes land on a finger and sip honey as if from nowhere. One … Continued
The way she wears her sweater is so Sunday. If her parents were here she’d say why don’t you go watch Dancing With the Stars. It is every generation’s job to feel deprived. If she had kids she’s scared of … Continued
Translated from Slovenian by Brian Henry GRUBER CANAL, LJUBLJANA Here I am on my old turf, my hand again in yours, going down the stairs, as long as summer, which is pale from many couples and families on … Continued
Do you smell that? How could it be, here, Where everything looks perfect? That sour tang Of a pile of one hundred degree garbage Behind the storefront you’re standing in Front of. Sniff the air. Look around. But hurry, You … Continued